The other day someone broke into my private space. I’d just received some minor bad news, and was wallowing in misery over all the horrors that could possibly ensue, when a voice I didn’t recognize piped up almost apologetically: “Don’t you think this is kind of pointless?”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Oh, nobody, sorry to bother you – we just thought you might not have noticed…”
And they scuttled out the door before I could grab them and make them explain. But I knew what they were implying, even though they were too polite, or chicken, to say so directly: that I was wasting my energy, that all my worrying wasn’t going to change anything.
They didn’t fool me. I know very well that the only way to prevent the worst is to imagine and suffer over all possible horrors ahead of time – or, as my dear Jorge used to put it, to “suffer twice.” Everybody knows this.
So I went back to my worrying, breathing a sigh of relief, thinking I was rid of them – but somehow they won’t leave me alone. They keep sneaking up on me, poking me in the ribs, “Hey dude, no worries! Just check out what’s happening!” Obviously they’re trying to sound cool, but I know who they are. They’re just some old hippie who can’t give up on that old saw, “Be here now.”
Lucky I know what’s what. If people actually stopped worrying, we’d all be deluded into thinking everything was ok! Then the pharmaceutical companies would go out of business…
